Work Text:
“Ivaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan,” Alfred whined, the sound that spilled from his mouth very much resembling that of a feline complaining.
The young American was sprawled leisurely over his couch, pillows kicked off in frustration and belly uncovered. His expression was petulant as he beckoned for the other to come over, moaning pathetically when his stomach grumbled once more. He shouldn’t have eaten all those fries, he really shouldn’t. But it had looked so good…
Meanwhile, Ivan stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes were feverishly focussed on the flustered look Alfred currently sported, those little whines like a strange addictive song to his ears.
What, what the hell was this supposed to mean? He wasn’t supposed to be attracted to Alfred when he was like this, wasn’t supposed to feel a spark of heat when the boy overate himself like a filthy pig.
In the past, he’d only ever dated polite people. People who shared his interests, with whom he could have interesting conversations and debates.
But Alfred… Alfred was one of a kind.
Ivan slowly took off his coat, hanging it away with feigned ease.
“Ivaaaaaaaaaan,” his boyfriend of a month whined once more, and Ivan was sure he could feel the little hairs in the back of his neck stand on edge. “Come rub my tummy pleeeeeeeeeease Ivaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan-“
The Russian hurried over to the other, kneeling down and placing a hand on his stomach. He began slowly caressing, studying the way that pained expression morphed into one of pure bliss.
“Ooooooooooooh, feels good~”
Ivan once more questioned his sanity when he felt a shiver travel down his spine. What was with him today? He wasn’t supposed to find any of this pleasurable! He should find the crumbs and spots of grease on Alfred’s shirt revolting, should want to vomit at the trail of drool leaking from his greedy mouth. Yet it was as if his body moved on its own accord as he brought up a hand, swiped those drops away with his index finger, and put them into his own mouth.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeew, don’t do that,” Alfred grumbled, yet still with that lazily happy expression on his face as Ivan kept rubbing his sore tummy.
And Ivan quite agreed with Alfred. He should not be happy doing things like that, he really shouldn’t. Yet he was.
Because as long as it was Alfred, he couldn’t find it in him to be bothered by his less desirable behaviourisms. As long as he stayed himself, Ivan could never be disgusted.
This was what love must feel like.